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Polygamy - Kathy FitzGerald

It is best to be the first wifethe first wife professessitting on her stool,her full and rounded hipsmushrooming over the sides.His first love,she resembles a rockthat stands above a river bederupting memories of long agoand smoothing them likepillows of fufu.

I prefer being secondthe second wife proclaims,her youth still standing upto the weight of motherhoodand water jugs and washing days.She, a tree blowing in the windof yesterday and today,still holds her brancheshigh and wide,perpetually lookingback and forth.

And the third oneyoung and hardened by her powerremains silent. For she knowsshe is the last one.She knows the faucetof his manhoodruns sloweras the hours coarse through his veins.She leans against the cool cement wallone slender leg tucked under her,a black cloaked flamingo—each feather a soft propeller of freedomshe guards like an unhatched egg.